


You Won't See Me Fall Apart

by Insomnia_Productions



Series: The Rat Revolution (Mat/Rand Drabbles) [9]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: A tiny bit of fluff, Angst, Book 06: Lord of Chaos, Canon Divergence, Chapter 33: Courage To Strengthen, Chapter Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, because he is mY BOY, mostly provided by olver, only a bit of comfort though, yeS MY BOY OLVER IS HERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: Rand’s expression flickers, coldness warring with some other emotion Mat can’t place. He says, in a tone so lost and distant it seems as though he doesn’t even realize he is saying it, “I miss you.”Mat feels himself take a step back, and forces himself to let go of the medallion.Not this time,he thinks fiercely.It will not happen again.There can be nothing—thereisnothing between him and Rand. Between him and the Dragon Reborn.±This work is the sequel to my Fires of Heaven drabble, titled 'And I Will Stay Up Through The Night'. This fic can be read as a stand-alone fic, but it would work better if you've read the first one already!





	You Won't See Me Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the sequel to And I Will Stay Up Through The Night. It can be read as a stand-alone fic, but it would work better if paired with the first one, so if you haven't read it... hey,,, 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/20700680

Rand moves like a lion in a too-small cage. Mat watches with uneasy eyes as his childhood friend paces around the map, rattling off commands: go to Salidar, help Egwene, make peace with the Aes Sedai, bring Elayne back to Caemlyn. He flits from topic to topic, always moving, one hand gesturing wildly while the other strokes the hilt of his sword as though preparing for a fight. His voice is hard and cold in a way that seems at odds with Mat’s memories, and his eyes hold a fevered light. His face is like carved marble, and the hint of eagerness breaking through the seams only serves to put Mat’s teeth on edge. 

“Thom Merrillin should be with Elayne,” he is saying now. For the first time since they entered the tent, he looks at Mat, and blinks slightly, as though only now realizing that he has been talking to another person all this time. He crosses the tent in an instant, and presses a letter into Mat’s hands. “Give this to him.” His eyes are already sliding away from Mat as he spins on his heel and strides towards the tent flap—and stops. “Aviendha,” he says softly. “Go with Nandera and Jalani. Help them prepare the men to Travel.” 

Aviendha rises slowly. She says nothing, only casts a brief, lingering glance at Mat, and then slips out of the tent. Rand waits only until the tent flaps close before he begins pacing again, and Mat feels dizzy as his eyes track Rand’s erratic movements. The silence stretches between them, dense and uncomfortable—at least, it is uncomfortable for Mat. He isn’t sure what Rand is feeling, or if he is feeling anything at all. Mat turns the letter over in his hands. He rolls the corners inwards, then unfurls them and rolls them the other way. Rand’s footsteps are almost silent against the ground—they are the footsteps of a predator on the battlefield—and yet they are all Mat can hear. He puts the letter down and takes a deep breath, one hand tracing the outline of the medallion under his coat. 

“Rand—” 

“How are you?” Rand stops pacing, and the absolute lack of movement almost makes Mat wish he hadn’t. He is standing completely still, staring at Mat. Perhaps he had forgotten about Mat’s presence before; now, though, Mat feels frozen, as though trapped by Rand’s eyes alone. He grips the medallion harder. It won’t work against  _ saidin.  _

He searches for words and comes up with: “What?” 

“How are you? How have you been?” 

“Um. I—I’ve been fine. Why—?”

“You haven’t run into any danger?”

“Nothing worse than usual.”

“No severe injuries?” 

Mat blinks. “Some, but nothing I can’t handle. Rand, what—?”

“You have enough food? Supplies?” 

“We send for fresh supplies every few days. But, Rand, I don’t underst—”

“You said you were hurt. What happened? Who treated you?” The questions are concerned, yet his voice is flat and cold, without emotion. Well, Mat supposed it’s the job of a king to ensure his general is in good health. The thought is bitter in his mind. 

“It was nothing. I’m fit to make the trip from Salidar to Caemlyn, don’t worry.” 

“Are you—”

“Rand!” He doesn’t mean to shout so abruptly, but it has the desired effect. Rand closes his mouth. Mat takes a slow, steadying breath and rakes a hand through his hair. He means to snap at Rand for the barrage of questions, but what comes out instead is: “Rand… what’s going on with you?” 

Rand’s expression flickers, coldness warring with some other emotion Mat can’t place. He says, in a tone so lost and distant it seems as though he doesn’t even realize he is saying it, “I miss you.” 

Mat feels himself take a step back, and forces himself to let go of the medallion.  _ Not this time,  _ he thinks fiercely.  _ It will not happen again.  _

There can be nothing—there  _ is  _ nothing between him and Rand. Between him and the Dragon Reborn. 

He opens his mouth to say as much, but before he can speak, Rand’s face twists into a scowl. “Shut up,” he hisses, eyes fixed on a point behind Mat’s shoulder. Or perhaps far beyond it. 

“What? I haven’t said anything.” 

Rand drags his eyes back to Mat. The scowl fades slightly, but his right hand grips the sword hilt, knuckles white. “Not you. I was talking to… to…” 

In the next instant, Rand’s expression breaks. The coldness and the unidentifiable emotion alike shatter into exhaustion and fear, and when Mat blinks Rand is on his knees on the ground. How had Mat not noticed the dark rings beneath his eyes before? When Rand speaks, all traces of hardness are gone: his voice is soft and tremulous, and Mat has to strain to catch his words. 

“Light, I think I am going mad.” 

Mat’s fingers find the medallion again; he forces them down. It will do no good, anyway. That aside, he isn’t sure Rand is capable of harming anyone right now, except perhaps himself. The best thing to do would be to leave. He has an army to command, after all, and a mission to complete. Rand will pull himself together well within two hours, surely, and then Mat will be on his way to Salidar. Yes, the best thing to do now is leave and speak to the men. Just walk away. Yes. 

It isn’t until he is kneeling in front of Rand that Mat realizes he has not done the best thing, and then it is too late to change course. Rand doesn’t look up from where his gaze is fixed on the ground, brow knitted so deeply that his eyes are almost closed. 

Mat doesn’t know what instinct tells him to take Rand’s face in his hands, nor what compels him to rest his forehead against Rand’s—but he does. And, when Rand shudders and leans in to press their lips together, Mat lets him. 

The kiss lasts only a moment. A sharp gasp sounds from the entrance of the tent, followed by the rustle of cloth and a soft thud, and Mat tears himself away from Rand. Light, how could he have forgotten about Olver? 

The boy is lying on his stomach between the tent flaps, half of his torso still outside, staring up at him with wide eyes. Mat sighs to himself. 

“Well, if you’re here, you might as well come in.” 

Olver rises in silence, trembling so hard that his knees knock together. Mat stands, too, Rand following soon after. Olver’s gaze swings between Mat and Rand. Mat sighs again. Something tells him he will be doing a lot of that tonight. 

“Olver, this is Rand. Yes, he’s the Dragon Reborn. Rand, this is Olver. He’s… a child. That I. Take care of.” 

Rand blinks at that. Some of the pain is gone from his eyes, replaced by curiosity, and Mat doesn’t think about the way his heart feels lighter at that sight. They study each other for a long moment, Rand and Olver, and then Rand tilts his head slightly. 

“Hello, Olver.” 

Olver gapes at him, and then spins on Mat. His voice nears a shout as he cries, “YOU KISSED THE DRAGON REBORN!” 

Heat floods Mat’s cheeks. Thoughts whip through his head, and the only one that sticks long enough for coherence is an indignant, “I did not. The Dragon Reborn kissed  _ me.”  _

Light, no, wait. He can feel his blush darkening. Mat opens his mouth, casts around for something, anything to say to regain control of the situation—and Rand starts laughing. Mat’s mouth snaps shut and he stares with wide eyes as Rand near doubles over, the hands pressed to his mouth failing to contain peals of vibrant laughter. It seems years since Mat has heard that laugh. When he looks at Mat, the war of expression on his face has completely disappeared. Instead, he wears the smallest smile, warmth lighting his eyes. 

“I really have missed you,” he says. 

Once again, Mat feels trapped by his gaze—but this time finds he doesn’t quite mind it. 

“Car’a’carn!” The call comes from outside and Rand’s smile fades. “Car’a’carn, we must go!” 

Rand sighs. “There is something I still have to…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It will take no more than an hour. I will return in two hours to make your gateway. Ready your men.” 

He moves towards Mat, as though about to say something, or kiss him again—but he hesitates, stops, and only smiles. “I will see you again in Caemlyn. Go safely.”

Mat nods mutely. Somehow he cannot seem to summon the words he wants to say. 

Rand turns to Olver. The boy squeaks as Rand kneels before him. “I hope to see you again, too. Will you look after Mat for me?” 

Olver nods emphatically, caught somewhere between starstruck and terrified. Rand smiles at him, too, and then slips out of the tent. Mat stares after him, fiercely willing away the tears that prick his eyes, and then lowers himself to the floor and stays there, eyes closed and his head in his hands.  _ This will never happen again,  _ indeed.

He feels a weight settle beside him and opens his eyes to see Olver hugging him tightly. The boy regards him with large eyes. “Are you alright, Mat?” 

Mat manages a weak smile for him. “Yes.” He thinks of Olver’s face when Rand spoke to him, and the smile becomes a little more real. “Are you afraid?” 

Olver shakes his head fiercely, then hesitates a moment before asking, unusually quiet, “Do you love him?” 

Mat sighs. He is too tired to lie. “I do.” 

Olver nods. “Then… then I am not afraid of him.” 

Mat feels a smile tug at his lips, but he pries Olver off him and puts on as stern a face as he can manage. “Right, off to bed. I’ll come to get you when it’s time to leave, and I expect to find you fully rested and ready to go.” 

To his credit, the boy knows how far he can stretch his luck. He makes no protest, only scrambles up and darts out of the tent, hopefully returning to his own. Mat waits until his footsteps have faded, and then steps out of the tent himself. The night air is cool, at least in comparison to the heat of the day. It’s a good feeling. All around him, men are preparing for the journey ahead. Surrounded by the noise, Mat looks up at the sky. It’s cloudy tonight. He cannot see the stars. 

Under this starless sky, Salidar is waiting. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> have I mentioned that olver is my son and I would kill for him
> 
> //
> 
> So, my plan for LoC was to write a cute fluffy drabble with Mat and Rand as teenagers talking about what if they ever got married and adopted a kid together, and then I would flash forward to Mat with Olver reflecting on that and the idea of having a family with Rand and Olver and it wouldve been SO FLUFFY but INSTEAD I got to the part where Rand tells Mat to go to Salidar and now look whats happened
> 
> I fucked up a perfectly good fic idea, is what I did. look at it. it's got hurt and no comfort 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic! As I said in the first 'Elastic Hearts' story (should I make this a new series?), I'm not big on angst, so I always feel a little insecure about my angstier stories. 
> 
> If you liked this, hey, maybe leave a comment! And if you want to chat about rat/cauthor or WoT in general, dm me on Tumblr @insomnia-productions!


End file.
